Thursday, 1 March 2012

Pippa Drake

Pippa Drake

Roger Noons

Vodka tonic with a ice and lemon

Pippa’s eyes
were focussed on the traffic lights; her ears were concentrating on the husky
tones of Sting, who was leading her through a field of barley; her taste buds
were savouring the caramel which she had just popped into her mouth and her
fingers were caressing the familiar contours of the van’s steering
wheel.

Having completed
the morning’s deliveries, she was looking forward to returning to the shop, when
there was an explosive crash and vibration, generated on the near side. She
covered her head with her hands and arms and pressed herself against the off
side door. She closed her eyes tight and tried to protect her ears from any
further attack. Hence she had no knowledge of the passenger side door being
opened and a gloved hand snatching her shoulder bag from the seat. When she
experienced no further violation she slowly lowered her arms, and she heard the
blaring, persistent horn from the white Transit van which was immediately behind
her.

*

It was almost
five pm when she reached the shop and found Lucy in a state of
panic.

‘Thank God
you’re alright,’ her assistant said, taking Pippa’s hands between her own. ‘It
must have been awful. You’ve no cuts though,’ she added after scanning the older
woman’s face.

‘No, no
injuries, except a bruise on my shoulder where I banged against the
door.’

‘Was there much
money in your bag?’ Lucy asked tentatively.

‘About thirty
pounds I think, all but one of the customers paid by cheque. Those can be
stopped.’

‘The most
important thing is that you’re OK. Everything else can be replaced. I suppose it
will be covered by the insurance?’ Pippa nodded. ‘Why did he smash the window,
he could have just opened the door and grabbed the bag?’

‘The police
reckon it was to cause me to react the way I did and therefore see nothing. I
don’t know a single thing about him, or her for that matter. So far no witnesses
have come forward.’

‘No, I suppose
they don’t want to get involved,’ said Lucy, almost to
herself.

*

Two days later,
in the afternoon, Pippa was making up a bouquet in the back room, when the
telephone rang. ‘Hello,’ she said, her attention mainly on the task in
hand.

‘Is that
Philippa Drake?’

‘Yes,
speaking.’

‘I’ve found your
bag,’ the male caller said. That claimed her full attention.

‘Oh, that’s
…’

‘I’m afraid
there’s no purse or phone, but there’s a pen, lipstick, comb, a diary, keys, all
the usual things you find in a woman’s bag.’

‘Oh, thank
goodness, that is very welcome news.’

‘Might there be
a reward involved?’ the caller asked.

‘Oh, yes, of
course. Will twenty five pounds be alright?’

‘I thought it
might be more than that. You see there’s also a letter … signed by Tim, I think
it is. He appears to enjoy inserting his tongue inside your ear, and other more
intimate places.’ He paused. ‘Your husband’s called James isn’t
he?’

‘Er
…’

‘Perhaps you’d
like to think again, about the reward. I’ll call back
tomorrow.’

BIO - Roger Noons began writing in 2006, when he completed a
screenplay, for a friend who is an amateur film maker. After the film was made,
he wrote further scripts, then began short stories and poems. He occasionally
produces non fiction, particularly memoirs from his long career in Environmental
Health.